Interlude
by southern cross
Summary: TimJulie. S2. Their paths cross and with it comes an interruption of what could have been. An interlude.
1. Chapter 1

I really have business messing with the story right now. I am knee deep in NaNo 07 and should be concentrating on that, but Tim and Julie will not leave me alone for which I fully blame Pamie884 and her tremendous story 'Your Hand in Mine' so I present to you my Tim/Julie series I started after watching I guess it was the second ep of this season. This was really born out of a frustration that certain characters were just acting psychotic well this was born. Would love to hear what you say, I own nothing and mean no harm, so please enjoy.

"Rough night."

More sniffing. He hadn't expected an answer. Not really. He could count on one hand all the times he had talked to Julie Taylor.

Finding her, of all people outside, had been surprising, perhaps it was the shock of it or the fact that he originally made his way over there to introduce himself far more intimately, becasue the blond silhoutette had been nice in all the right places, but he had found himself, Tim Riggins, asking if everything was alright.

Hell, it was the Coach's daughter; he was obligated to see after her well being.

The ride home, although admittedly inconvenient, had been a no-brainer when, between a few sobs and a gold curtain of hair, she had revealed she was alone and going to have to call her Dad.

Calling Coach Taylor that late to come to that address was not a fate he wished on anyone. Well almost anyone.

If he cared, and really he didn't, he'd ask where Saracen was, or why she happened to be at that bar, wearing that top, when that band was playing.

"I'm so stupid."

The Coach's daughter had pain in her voice. Seemed someone's heart had been broken or at the very least hope's had been dashed. The looks she'd been sending the Swede all summer had gone unnoticed, by Saracen at least, but not by him.

While he certainly acted like he didn't care, which he didn't, he saw and heard most of what went on around him, even if people thought otherwise. Hell that worked better for him. He learned, he remembered, but he was left out of the emotional entanglements.

Tonight it seemed the looks had turned into an attempt, one that was, given the sniffles that were continuing to break up the silence between them, rejected.

The kid had balls though. Most girls with a Dad like the Coach and a boyfriend as known as Saracen would never have taken such a chance, such a risk, when so much could go wrong.

"You had to try."

Immediately all of the air was sucked from the cab of his truck. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to speak to say that of all things, but he had never been one for thinking things through too carefully.

Obviously the girl was too mortified to speak, there was some gasping and some maybe, choking, and he really hoped not, but he couldn't be too sure, and now was the time to shut up.

But they were pulling onto her street and he was pulling the truck to the curb, a discreet four houses away from hers, because, while he was not a pussy, he so didn't want to answer any of those questions.

And he just couldn't leave it alone.

Turning towards her, noting the white-knuckle grips she had on the door handle, he briefly hoped that panic was due to the situation and not him, he cleared his throat

Nothing; and while she didn't move, she didn't turn back towards him, and damn if he hated being ignored. Pushing his luck, really, really pushing his luck, he reached forward and finally pushed away the fall of hair covering her face.

Cheeks flushed, eyes wet, she looked like every girl did when they cried, like nothing would ever be right in their world again, and shit he was not as immune to that as he would have liked to be.

Little Julie Taylor was staring at him, bottom lip caught between perfectly white teeth, and he for one insane moment, considered things he had no business considering with the Coach's daughter.

Thankfully she found that exact moment to well give thanks.

"Thanks for the ride. And you know."

And boy did he, whatever the hell had just happened here was something that had no real name.

"Yeah, well, it's Friday night. Come Monday this will all be a memory."

Most Fridays were. For him at least, they were a blur of adrenaline and hormones. But he wasn't so sure that everything would be forgotten on Monday, not for him and certainly not for her.

She wasn't ignoring him now, in fact she staring at him, really and truly staring, seeing, looking, and he fought the annoying urge to shift in his seat. He was used to the stares, he was a damn good-looking guy and why shouldn't the females look. Except this wasn't any other girl it was her and he wasn't sure if she should be looking at him like that, and then he realized that maybe, just maybe her look was seeing something else and very suddenly that sounded much, much worse.

Yeah so he was a pussy, his eyes broke away first, crudely dropping down to her cleavage.

It may have been an asshole move, but it worked, she huffed, predictably. The hinges on the door creaked as she pushed it open.

She was leaving and this interlude would be over.

"Thanks again for the ride."

Her voice was strong, controlled, and he had never noticed just how cool it was, frosty Julie Taylor. Interesting

Their eyes locked through the open window.

"Night."

He couldn't help the wink, didn't mind the blush, and enjoyed the view as she made her way to the front door.

A Friday night to remember.


	2. Chapter 2

Well I am glad that I took the plunge and posted the first part it's helped me push through a difficult part of my NaNo, so I am back with the second part. I really like this chapter, Tim and I had fun together during this one ;) So please enjoy and review and know that I own nothing and mean no harm!

Leaving had been the right thing to do, the smart thing, Tim knew it. Lyla was not about to jump him while her Father was passed out in the next room. Once upon a time maybe, but not this time.

Once upon a time he would have been annoyed, but not this time.

No, things with Lyla were over.

Over.

Wow.

He hadn't thought it would be so simple. So easy to simply be done with her. It certainly hadn't been that easy the last time around. But then she wasn't a holy roller then either and maybe the thought of all the God-love was a little off-putting.

The night was young, his karma glowing, doing a good deed certainly had its benefits, and he was in no way ready to call it a night.

Tonight the truck had a mind of its own, cruising back and forth across town, thumb tapping idly on the steering wheel, Huey Lewis' heart was still beating on the radio, the squeal of rubber on asphalt startled him.

His reaction had been all instinct.

"FUCK!"

In the glare of the truck's headlights he could make out a figure, a slim blond figure that had come out of exactly no where, directly in front of his truck. Good reflexes had saved the day, God help him if he had been drinking, jerking the truck into park he hopped from the truck body humming with adrenaline. Whomever it was, they were about to get a piece of his buzzed, but irritated mind.

"Did ya think to watch where the hell you were going?!"

If he had had a thought as to who it might have been walking out so late on the rather dark street the Coach's daughter would never have crossed his mind. And it really should have, wasn't it just last Friday that they had been in almost the exact situation, well without the near death experience.

But there she was, pale, well paler than normal, eyes huge and glistening with tears. Tim groaned, not out loud of course, but he groaned just the same. Well there went his night. Vehicular manslaughter narrowly averted notwithstanding, he didn't think the Coach would take to kindly to hearing his, always his, Fullback having almost killed his baby girl.

"Are you alright?"

Deciding on a much calmer tone was apparently the right decision.

The watery smile was a definite improvement over watery eyes.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry. I was...I was just lost there for a sec."

Maybe it was the fact he had nearly killed her, or the flashing yellow light that set the scene in a surreal haze, but Tim found himself looking at the Coach's daughter, really looking at her for the first time.

And good goddamn when exactly had she grown in all those places. He had had an inkling in the truck, only seven days ago, that shirt had revealed much more than he had remembered there being, but nothing like tonight.

Clearing his thoughts, and raising his eyes, he caught the blush and the responding smirk was automatic.

"Um, yeah. I'm sorry."

He made her nervous. The chew on your fingernail nervous which on anyone else would look kinda pathetic, but on her, kinda cute.

"You said that. And hey, no damage done."

He knew he shouldn't have done it. This was Saracen's girl, the Coach's daughter, and that particular grin had the oddest effect on women, but he couldn't help himself, and it seemed neither could she.

Little Julie Taylor was blushing fiercely, staring openly, and he found himself liking it. A lot. Too much. And damn he was so gonna get his ass kicked for this.

"You were heading somewhere in particular?"

She chewed on her lip, apparently the tiny bit of skin held the answer. Not noticing would have been much better for sure, but how was he not suposed to notice the nibbling; nibbling for fuck's sake. So, oh yeah he was going to hell.

"Just away. From the party. There were so many people there. And they were gonna be asking questions. And Lois was gone. God, school is gonna suck on Monday."

He had followed the rant. Couldn't say he understood it. The frown had appeared automatically.

"What happened at school?"

If anything she looked embarrassed. Frightened by what she was about to reveal or not given the hesitation in her answer.

"Not at school. Tonight. I broke up with Matt."

Wow. She dumped the star quarterback. He wasn't sure whether to applaud or step away. There was something disturbing and awe-inspiring in that.

"Well."

Smooth, one, real smooth.

"Yeah."

Seemed she understood his confusion better than he did.

"You need a ride?"

This was familiar, if one time was familiar, and this was better than thinking about that.

"OK"

Quick as a lick he walked her to the passenger door, no real reason for the stupid grin on his face, other than the fact that she hadn't hesitated to accept. Not even a little bit.

"Home?"

There was that lip again.

"No."

Interesting, she didn't want to go home, but didn't mind sitting there with him. A guy gets ideas out of that. Guys that weren't him of course with girls that weren't her. Well they couldn't stay there. Dillon was a small town, deserted at this time of night, but someone was liable to notice his truck sitting in the middle of the street.

"Alright."

He knew a place, hell he knew all the places, but he couldn't exactly take her to any of them. So he drove. The silence was not as uncomfortable as it had been before, and for that he was relieved.

"You must think I'm crazy."

Had the cab not been deathly silent he would not have heard her. He wasn't even sure the words were meant for him as they were directed at her hands, but he took a chance.

"I don't think anything."

It had somehow sounded better in his head, but if she thought he was an idiot she didn't show it, he clarified.

"You did what you had to do, what was right for you, and that's not crazy."

She did look at him then and try as he might he couldn't tear his eyes from the road, couldn't turn his head just for a glimpse of what was on her face. Christ the girl was an open book, everything was on her face, and he didn't want to see, couldn't know what was there.

"Sure doesn't sound like you don't think anything."

Dangerous territory. There were warning signs and caution lights blazing but he was never one to back down, but then he wasn't sure what he was stepping up for, so he stepped to the side instead.

"We're here."

Here was nowhere, a cliff, a bluff, a piece of land that had called to him at one time or another and he had stopped. Probably drunk, it was likely that most of the cans that lay at their feet had been in his hand at one time or another, it was amazing the amount of alcohol he could consume when he put his mind to it. But he wasn't drunk now, not even a little bit, and he was here, and she was there a little further to his right than most girls would be if they were in her place, but close enough that her hair continually whipped across his face and chest.

"He's great you know. Never did anything wrong. He was sweet and supportive and God I just suck."

Apparently she had no idea that she wasn't supposed to be saying this to him. That her ex wasn't Matt to him, he was Saracen and as such he wasn't supposed to know that the guy was out there nursing a broken heart he hadn't earned. In all his life he had earned every stomp, almost every stomp, to his heart and the thought that someone, a 'sweet' and 'supportive' guy could get his heart stomped on just as easily without provocation really blew his mind. When you hardly ever play the good guy it never occurs to you that they might get hurt just as easily.

"He doesn't deserve this."

Maybe he did maybe he didn't, but then he wouldn't be the first person to get hurt that didn't deserve it. Tim knew about that first hand thank you very much.

"He'll survive."

And that was the truth of it. No matter how much it hurt it would heal. It had to, it was just the way of things.

"You think?"

She was closer now. He was almost completely lost in her hair, the soft scent of apples and vanilla filled him, but he didn't step away.

"I know."

If she wasn't as close as she was, as close as she shouldn't be, the words would have been lost in the wind, but she was and she had and thankfully she only nodded. He didn't think he could talk just yet, whether it was his turn or not, tonight was not turning out like he had planned, and he was entirely unprepared for the ache in his chest. Not quite sure what to do with his hands or himself, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kept himself still and quiet.

How had he ended up here, with her of all people, staring out over the dark Texas earth. He should be drunk, laughing, getting laid, not outside half blown to bits, a painful ache in his chest, and oddly more content than he had been in, ever.

Thank God for Buddy Garrity.


	3. Chapter 3

Hmmm...Not to sure about this one. To be honest this whole story started becasue I thought of this scene in my head and the word 'Interlude' popped into my head, but then as I was writing it, I dunno, Tim and I had a much easier time of it to say the least ;) Either way please read and enjoy (reviews are wonderful too) I own nothing and mean no harm.

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Things could have gone very differently.

Footsteps echoed and bounced off the lockers around her, the music in her ears muffled all but the worst of it. Classes were done for the day, people were dashing around, not noticing the small spot she took up cross legged on the cool concrete. They all had places to be, work, clubs, _practice_.

Not her, not today, she smiled down at the small piece of electronic wonder in her hand, she had no where to be and it was wonderful.

Had things spun a little more to the left, a bit more to the right she might have been sneaking off with the Swede, driving more distance between herself and the person she had been that really wasn't so bad. No, she had stepped forward, she had held her head up high and faced the new school week with an attitude she could be proud of appeasing both the person she had been and the person that had come out of the experience this summer.

This summer had brought her something, something other than a broken romance and a Father who was only when he wasn't, it had brought her a friend.

Tim Riggins.

It was no coincidence that this particular piece of floor had been her choice, no, it was with a little lean to the left a perfect spot to watch the afternoon players run out to the field.

All week she had run into him, maybe it had always been that way, maybe their paths had crossed so often, which she doubted, but he seemed to always be there whenever she turned around.

He hadn't spoken much, a 'hi' or a 'bye' but it was enough to make her stammer and blush, and do a little recon during her lunch period to find just the right secluded spot. No one thought it strange that Julie Taylor wasn't around much, hadn't you heard, she had broken QB1's heart.

Matt. He wasn't just QB1, not to her, and he had deserved so much more; and while she didn't regret breaking up with him, because really she didn't and that had nothing whatsoever to do with the slim figure in the distance stretching, he was a great guy and she did care about him.

This wasn't their time though. Maybe if her Dad hadn't left and she had not seen how her Mother had struggled. Maybe maybe wish wish.

The scene before her had changed, drills had begun and the show was over, that was not a bad thing. The last thing she needed right now was another complication with another Dillon Panther. This was just a moment to indulge, one experience to slip in a diary and pull out one day with a smile; remember that day you were feeling so much over your pay grade that you thought you had a chance with that?

Only maybe it wasn't such a lock away thought.

Gathering her stuff, she pushed the thought away, it was gonna be a warm walk home, one that might forever if she went to the library first, cleaned out her locker, swung by Mrs. Kemp's to go over the latest English assignment and returned to the gym to give the Volleyball Coach the whistle she had dropped in the cafeteria.

Yeah, she swung her back pack over her shoulder, it just might take what ninety minutes.

All in all things could have gone a whole lot differently, been a whole lot worse, and it might get even better in say ninety minutes or so.


	4. Chapter 4

Just want to say thanks to everyone who has responded so warmly to this fic. It means a lot that you would take the time to drop me a comment. Please enjoy, review, and remember I own nothing and mean no harm.

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How exactly he managed to find himself in the most fucked up of situations he would never know.

Goddamn motherfucking Mexico. Whatever the hell J had been smoking he really didn't want any part of it.

Just as things were finally getting into the nicest rhythm they had been in in a while J had to go and do some boneheaded thing like run off to Mexico.

"Goddamn it," the curse was as much for his life as it was for the ice machine that was doing a whole lot of nothing and it was so hot. Hot enough to melt the balls off a squirrel, which he was pretty sure was a happy hour attraction at the place next door; such was the state of the street they were camped out on. Real high class lodging for the Dillon boys.

"Shit," kicking at the machine, he admitted defeat and decided it would make a better chair and hopped up on it.

All last week he had been, not great maybe, but pretty darn OK. He hadn't shown up to practice drunk once, hadn't cut any classes, and had gone a whole what almost two weeks without making an ass out of himself towards Lyla. And then there had been those stolen moments, hidden behind the South Wall because no on went where all the smokers hung out for fear of getting cauhgt; but then he was Tim Riggins and he wasn't scared. He might have been a little put off by the big eyes and silky hair; might have been a little intimidated at the look in those eyes, the trust in the hand that held his as they had snuck around the building after practice, he may have been all of those things but never scared.

Any other week and he might have done something ridiculous like heading off to her church, or pissing away his football career, which was his one ticket out of town.

Hell no, sir, thank you very much. He wanted out of Dillon and its corners and memories just as soon as humanly possible.

And then there had been those stolen moments, behind the art building (because no one went where all the smokers hung out for fear of getting caught) but then he was Tim Riggins and he didn't scare easily. He might have been a little putt off by the big eyes and silky hair; might have been a little intimidated at the look in those eyes, the trust in the hand that had held his as they had snuck around the building after practice was startling; but he had never been scared.

But this, he looked around the crappy excuse for a hotel convenience bar (not a working vending machine to be found in the small room), could put the fear into anyone. This road trip had cost him a practice, could cost J more, and he couldn't just do nothing.

Fuck.

The pressure between his eyes intensified, if he could maybe just think for a second, think without the noise and the fucking heat he might be able to put something together, think of someone to call.

Sitting up he cursed himself again for not thinking about it before. Tim Riggins could be a smart man when he needed to be, had on occasion been known to ask for help, and hell if he didn't need it now. Whatever support he was giving J, while appreciated, had not done anything to alter the plan for tomorrow. And there was no way in hell he was gonna let J get stuck in any part of his body with freaking Shark DNA.

It was so insane. He really picked a hell of a time to quit drinking because a good stiff drink was what he needed.

That and a good lay.

Groaning his thought turned, as boy's were often known to do, to sex and how long it had been since he had gotten any. When had that been? The last official day of summer vacation, and that had been, like three weeks ago. Those later afternoon interludes, when his body had still been strung out on the adrenaline of pratice, when her lips had been warmed by the sun had certainly not helped.

It was no wonder he was tense. Rolling his shoulders, he considered making a quick trip the establishment on the other side of their hotel, another 'special' place that could surely help him with his problem. There were no promises between them; hell he couldn't even say her name properly in his head, she was always just _her._

Only his feet didn't carry him that way, they took him towards the phone instead, and he realized the knots in his neck could be from the lumpy pillow on top of a night in the truck and really he had been fine the last couple of weeks.

Honestly, he hadn't had sex because he hadn't gone looking for it; stop the presses, alert the media, that's right folks Tim Riggins had not gone looking for a quick fuck.

Why might you ask?

Well he certainly had no idea, not a clue, not even when he picked up the receiver and wiped it carefully on his shirt before pressing it to his ear.

Oh, there were no real signs, none that he noticed as he spoke the numbers by heart, the name so quietly that he was asked rather abruptly to repeat himself.

Nothing but the nothing.

"Hello."

"Hey."

"Tim!"

Between the hollers and the questions, and the unexpected concern, he smiled, so maybe there was a reason. A petite blond reason with hair that could make a man, him, sin.

"Is everything OK?"

He didn't think so; not anymore, but then maybe that was OK.

"No. I need your help."

He hadn't told her he was leaving, hadn't said much of anything after their lips had met on their last visit, after he had cupped a breast his palm had no right touching.

"What do you need?"

There was none of the censure in her voice he had expected, no questions no doubts.

Tim Riggins could be a real smart man when he needed to be.


	5. Chapter 5

She was quite certain that the silence was in fact far worse than the ranting. Twenty minutes of absolute silence from Eric Taylor was an unholy, unnatural things and she wasn't as confident as she had been for the first hour of their trip.

The first eighty miles out of town had been a predictable mix of questions both shouted and muttered, but never to be answered, and long angry glances. Both had upset her, made her wish she was anyplace else in fact, but then it had happened; the deep sigh, the large inhale of warm air and then a whole big fat nothing.

Hemming hadn't worked, none of the throat cleaning, sighs, tossing of her hair, shaking of the foot, nothing had penetrated the Taylor wall of incredulous-angered-shocked-horrified silence.

And she was about sick of it.

It hadn't been her fault that Tim had called when he had, right in the middle of dinner, and everyone had overheard her surprised squeal when she had registered who it was in fact calling her, and really how could she have not reacted like that, Tim Riggins had called her. But then her Dad had heard and snatched the phone so fast out of her hand she could only stare, horrified, as he had begun to, well, inquire, why _he_ was calling her.

More miles were passing between home and there. The big there, Mexico, where Jason Street had apparently gone off on some half-assed attempt to get his legs back. Well that was as much as she could put together, after being banished to her room, her parents had not been as vocal as they could have been while discussing their options.

_"I know Eric, honey, but the Streets are all the way in Dallas."_

"Goddammit."

"Language, please the baby, ow exactly were they supposed to know this could happen."

_"I understand that Eric but baby it's gonna have to be you."_

_"Stupid, half-brained-,"_

_"-language! You go put a hold on things down there, take Julie, yes, and I'll make all the calls I can from here, and try to find them."_

_"..."_

_"Because, honey, you need to take her."_

There was still nothing very clear, at least in her mind, as to _why_ she had to go on the trip, not that she minded, it was after all Mexico and Tim Riggins had called her, but, it was just so weird.

"Daddy," she knew it wasn't fair, but really he had pulled out the big guns with the whole silent torture thing, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

shitdamnohmygoddamndamndamn.

"Tell, tell, what exactly is there to tell?"

Why exactly had there been a problem with silence? Squirming in her seat, the blur of trees and brown, brown, dirt, was absolutely no alleviation for her discomfort.

"Uh, well, nothing, exactly," the vein just under his right side burn was twitching, he was not amused, and more than likely not buying the bull.

Taking a deep breath helped, twisting her fingers into knots worked wonders, "We're friends, sort of, when things got difficult with Matt he listened, you know, really listened, and so yeah, we're friends," they were friends, maybe more like friends with certain after practice benefits, but really why did she need to go into such detail.

"Is that all?" Inwardly wincing, she forgot how could he really could be.

The truth was out, at least most of it, "I'm not saying that there isn't the potential to be something more official, but we're taking things very very slowly."

It wasn't exactly a complete lie, they weren't official, she wouldn't maybe could possibly consider the question should it be asked, and well the slow thing was crap but the vein was not jutting forward as noticeably as it had been.

"Uh huh," she wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but they were at the border now and inching their way forward through the line of cars.

Funny, the land on the other side of the border pretty much looked exactly like the land on this side; dry, dirty, and brown.

If the border agent thought it was strange that they were asking directions to a little town in Mexico that by the looks they got they had no business going to, he kept it mostly to himself, and once again her Father was not amused.

"God-damned half-assed plan, you know I taught him better, taught him to think things through more thoroughly than this," and as the space between them began to fill with an all to familiar rant, this time directed at one of his boys, and those were the best kind, kept the focus as far away from her as possible; she smiled her first smile since the split second the phone had been snatched out of her hand.

They were in Mexico now, on their way to help Jason, before his life took an even more startling turn; and goodness gracious Tim Riggins had called her.


	6. Chapter 6

I would like to say thanks to everyone who took the time to send a review, they mean a lot, and kept the muse writing!! Sorry this next bit has taken so long, but it's been a crazy new year so far. Anyway, please enjoy and review!!

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"So."

"So."

He really couldn't believe she had come.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

No big thing, as if she drove all they way to Mexico often, to rescue a cripple and a loser who may or may not be her boyfriend.

"Street needed something."

"Yeah, something like my Dad."

She got it. No one else might have, he didn't know, didn't want to ask, cause she did and that was enough.

"Are you OK?"

He didn't have an answer.

They were back in his place, if a place can be a sweltering hole, where barely functioning ice machines resided, she was sitting there, legs swinging on the working machine, he was here, leaning on the box that didn't.

But he was pretty sure he was just fine.

"I'm good."

"Good."

"Thanks."

She rolled her eyes, unexpected, but cute.

"Is that gonna be a thing now?"

His eyebrows raised of their own accord, his confusion he supposed evident.

"The whole thanks thing, cause, I dunno, it just seems, like that's all you've said, really, done, since we are got here-"

Interesting.

"-Is just say thanks."

And maybe it was the heat.

Or maybe it was because this was his place, and she was in it, and she had rolled her eyes, and her long legs were still swinging, paler than they had any right to be on any self-respecting Texas female, and he wouldn't want them a shade darker, and there, just there a drop of sweat was trickling down her neck and moving further, faster down into the devastating glimpse of cleavage that had no business being on the Coach's daughter.

Too much then the sum of all those parts, he could blame the place, would blame the heat, but none of that mattered.

All too quickly (not quickly enough) he was across the small space, invading her air, his hands stilling the movement of her legs, only enough to open them wide, allowing him space to step between them.

Damn.

DAMN.

She shouldn't have welcomed him, if they had told her not too, well meaning friends and family members, -don't mess with that Riggins boy- she hadn't listened to the warnings.

Oh, no she had taken full advantage, her hands had moved across his face, teasing, touching, he wasn't sure he had ever quite been touched so softly before.

Eye to eye, he watched her closely, carefully, waiting to see something, anything, something that would show where they were weren't real.

But they were there and his hands were moving over sweat slicked thighs, and his lips were pressing against hers, fuck she had tasted like mint and Pepsi, and he couldn't get enough.

Rocking his hips forward, the ache was building, she was burning him up, incinerating him, and he didn't know what the hell to do about it. Kept touching, hands cupped breasts that made him want to sin, kept tasting, any harder and the mark on her neck would last, kept praying, pleading, begging, that her hands would pull him in closer, tighter, arms wrapped shoulders couldn't draw him in close enough.

He never wanted to let her go (be let go) and no no no.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

Her breath was as lost as his.

Good.

Served her right.

"I think that works."

Forehead to forehead as they were there was no look of confusion to be given or seen.

But she knew.

"The whole showing of the thanks instead of the saying-"

He chuckled.

Yes chuckled.

"-totally works for me."

He might seriously have to do something about the non-clarifying of the boyfriend thing sooner than later.

"Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

Again I have to say that I have the most fun writing Tim Riggins!! Two updates so fast I'm as surprised as you. Please enjoy and review.

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An awful lot of time had passed since he had last done this, the this begin time passed in the wind and under the stars. Swinging the golf club, connecting with the hapless metal, the resulting crunch was gratifying and he felt a little bit more like he should.

Since this afternoon's revelation and he had discovered just exactly how much trouble he was in, and that really wasn't the issue when was he not in trouble, but something else had pushed him, had left him off.

Possibly what was off had to do with what was wrong, but then he would be in even more trouble than he was in already. It had all started innocently enough, which was really something considering he was involved, the study period had nearly been half gone and Julie had been chattering on about how much progress they were making and how prepared he was gonna be for the exam. All innocent, right, nothing too harmful, he had seen her just as animated, just as confident with the other students that she tutored.

That development had taken some getting used to, her tutoring him, but it had worked out surprisingly well.

Mrs. Coach was pleased that his grades were climbing, slowly but surely, and Coach was therefore pleased because she was, so yeah, not such a bad thing, the tutoring thing.

Time had passed, their moments in public, while not nearly as, pleasant, as the stolen ones, were turning out to be enjoyable in their own, open, public kind way; but then it had started. Gradually at first, unnoticed, then noticed, the hours spent reading the chapters, the proper grammar and freaking thesaurus research, who knew they weren't exactly the same as dictionaries, until the work was getting done. More importantly though it was getting done well.

So there they were, this afternoon, his C level work, a B withing range, spread out across the ugly brown library tables, and it occurred to him suddenly, savagely, that the pencil waving-hair tossing-julie taylor-was bemoaning the fate of poor Hester Prynne and expecting him to know exactly what the hell she as talking about. On and on she had gone, her voice more irritated, sympathetic to the single mother's plight, and she never once paused to look at him, you know in that, i know you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about but I'm gonna talk about it anyway, look.

She didn't expect him to not know what she was talking about, no, not that one, she had expected #33 to follow right along.

Which he had but that was beside the point, and he really wanted to see Buddy Garrity try and sew a red letter on anyone in this day and age, it had taken everything in him to play it cool, keep it level. His stomach had knotted up, who did that, who the hell assumed Tim Riggins knew anything about anything?

How many brews till a freshman puked, the fasted way out of one those tricky Demi bras and Riggins was your man, other stuff, school stuff, yeah, no, no one ever looked his way.

No one but her.

Lining up another shot, the half-drunk can, number one out of six, sailed haphazardly into the night, shooting a nice arc of yeast along the way. Once it had flown out of sight, his hands left with nothing else to do, or hit, he sat down heavily on his tailgate.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The revelation had hit, the information dumped, and he had come up with nothing in the three hours since he had arrived.

"Shit."

Pretty soon he would be mooning over the girl like QB1 or worse yet, bragging about his grades like that Landry kid.

Yeah, right.

Snorting, he sure might feel off right now, but he certainly hadn't lost his mind.

That was a relief.

Little Julie Taylor sure had him tied up in knots, but then she wasn't that little and he wasn't sure he minded the knots.

Great, just perfect, now he was thinking like a 'happy person'.

A positive thinker.

Damn.

The world was most definitely not ready for a happy thinking, book read, Tim Riggins, but then he was pretty certain neither was he.


	8. Chapter 8

So I had this scene planned out from the very beginning to me. In addition to Julie coming to terms with the changes in her life in a more positive manner I felt that Tim was not given a fair shake after the whole Bo/Jackie thing (although the whole roommate thing was hot) and this is my attempt to do it right in Interlude. I've got the next part already to go so review and show me some love I could use it. I own nothing and mean no harm. Enjoy.

* * *

Yeah he had fucked up.

Big time.

In so many ways.

His reaction two days ago had been pure reflex. A defensive response that was so very him and still so very annoying.

Now, cool and calm, tucked away on the top most row of bleachers he watched her watch nothing.

Her.

A pang of frustration stuck in him, he had messed up, and now he was waiting and worrying, and it sucked.

"Are you OK?"

Stupidly stunned he could only stare at her, confused by the movement of her lips and the not angry of her voice.

"Um, well, I guess so."

Her little nod (acceptance? understanding?) who the hell could tell one cryptic Taylor head nod from the other.

"That's good."

Good.

Good?

What the hell was good. Abandoning the cool and casual for the frustrated pull of hair, he cut his eyes sharply to his left, hoping against hope he might catch something on her face that revealed some little bit of what was running through her head. There was nothing good about any of this.

Whatever she was thinking her face revealed none of it. She looked over at him suddenly, busted, he did his best not to flinch.

How was she only one who could see him like that?

"Do you want her back? Is that why you are so upset? Cause I would totally get that. I mean God she sounds great and..."

The words died abruptly as though her mind caught up to what exactly she was rambling on about and despite everything he found himself slipping her a half smile. When she offered nothing more he smoothed the lines of his face, her voice had been tighter, higher, than normal and this was no time for smiles. Who else could be blamed but him?

No one.

"Um..."

Damn, his mouth had begun to move and he had not thought ahead to what they would actually spill out. Great. Things were going along just fine.

Asshole.

Did he want Jackie back? The times they'd had together, hell, they'd been hot, some good memories were scattered in those afternoons. But were the sum of those moments worth even a fraction of what he had now?

He had Julie Taylor. Julie Taylor of the talks, and the walks, and rescues and kisses and B averages.

No one else might know it, but she was his, and it was a damn good thing. Simply considering someone else sharing her study hall hours or kissing that chin made his heart rate triple.

So did he want Jackie back? Who knew, who cared. He was not letting Julie go and that was what mattered; that was his answer.

"I don't want her back," the unspoken 'I want you' hung between them and she blushed, and he smirked, and he was suddenly much better, much more in control.

"Things got outta hand," his voice sounded strange, thicker, he had been stuck in his head far too long, avoiding the world, avoiding himself, "shit got to me."

Me, her, them, they, feelings, thoughts; Julie Taylor had put words and phrases into use that no one else had. How much of a kick would Street be getting if he could get a peek at this moment.

"It's OK," her soft smile seemed sincere, quick as a lick her hand darted across the small space between them to take his. Something in him shifted.

Looking down at their fingers, entwined, tangled, pale skin, soft and smooth, and he knew that he had made the right choice. It hit hard and fast the knowing, the conviction, and an impulse seized him.

Impulses, spontaneity rarely descended on the Riggins men, but when it did, look out.

Tugging on her hand, yanking her roughly to him, she squealed when his arms arms wrapped around her, and gasped when he pulled her onto his lap. The fire they were playing with was more akin to an inferno, but he didn't care that they were on the top row of bleachers, in broad daylight, that she was Julie Taylor and he was Tim Riggins and anyone looking would see. She was Julie and she was his and she was so very warm and soft in all his cold and hard places.

The kiss was not timed right, his lips met her cheek as her mouth formed a half-hearted protest, but it was hot and right, and he was already hard, fuck when wasn't he when she was close. He had missed two days of this and that pissed him the hell off, "I don't want Jackie," the next kiss was closer to its mark, the bottom edge of those lips that drove him nuts, "or Tyra," the curve of her neck was particularly distracting, "or Lyla," a quick peck to the freckle left of her right eye made her squirm, foreheads touching he tightened the hold he had on her, "I want you."

It was that moment. The one big moment that you know is different, is special, for better or worse, it was a sliver of time that would be remembered, and it was his and hers and it was fucking amazing.

"OK, Tim, OK," and he hadn't know how much he had wanted to hear that until she said it. They had never discussed whatever it was they were or weren't and now it was there out there for them both and it was good and right and he kissed her. Her. And kissed her. His. And touched her. Julie Taylor.

The past two days slipped away. The if's and maybe's forgotten. It was them and they and it was now and will be and wow; she kissed him. Him. And she kissed him. Hers. And she touched him. Tim Riggins.


	9. Chapter 9

Two updates in as many days. A record for me I think. So I had a blast with this chapter I really did. It was not at all how I thought it was going to go but then I started writing and well the Coach decided he had a few things to say. So please let me know what you think I do love those reviews. Enjoy.

* * *

"Coach."

Filthy, hot, exhausted, and in no way ready, he found himself sidling up to the Coach.

The Coach glanced his way, jaw clenched, eyes covered by the sleek black ever present shades. The practice had been grueling, the hour and a half had felt like an afternoon in hell.

The thought brightened his mood, he really couldn't imagine spending the last ninety minutes of the school day any other way.

"Mr. Riggins," Coach was addressing him, in no way had he stopped watching the stragglers on the field, the players who had only given 110 percent and had to be pushed for more, but he had the Coach's ear and that would have to be enough.

When the words stuck in his throat and he felt the rush of confidence failing, he stared at the Coach's profile completely aware that he was making an ass of himself and completely helpless to stop it.

"I take it you wanted to talk to me, son."

That had been the plan.

"Most days I consider myself to a smart man, and today I think is one of those days, so I'm going to take a guess and I'd bet that whatever you want to talk about has nothing to do with the blessed game of football."

The Coach's eyes never left the field and his never left the Coach.

"I am also going to wager that these words would somehow lead to my daughter. My beautiful and amazing and _young_ daughter."

It's funny he had never notice it before. Years together and it had never registered that the lower and slower the Coach talked the thicker his accent grew. Seemed a ridiculous thing and yet so very important.

"I am sure there would have been some half-ass explanation as to how two individuals would have crossed paths. Individuals who had never before taken an interest in each other."

Funny story that.

"And maybe I would have interjected a stern question or two."

Questions? He had never thought that there might have been questions. Stupid. He sucked at answers.

"Then there would have been the awkward stumbling around that always came with along with the word 'permission'."

Permission? That was something he had never considered asking for.

"Now I have had a hell of a week. Just the kind of week that needs to end faster than you can blink, and I have been assured by my lovely and all-knowing wife that if I handle this well my week will get better faster and end sooner. Karma she said. Who the hell knows what she's saying half the time."

And in that Tim could sympathize with, because at some point he may have lost the plot.

"You know my wife don't you. Amazing woman. The light of my life really, but I digress, because what I am sure you don't know is that the woman is fierce, fierce and," the Coach was interrupted just then shouting out a loud rebuke at a pitiful excuse for a lateral toss, "Now my wife, she's great you know," and he supposed he did, "a wonderful woman, but," and wasn't there always a but, "absolutely ferocious when it comes to her girls."

And now he knew where they were heading, and maybe he wasn't really ready to head there just yet. But the Coach was looking at him now, directly, under the black shiny gaze he couldn't move, could hardly breathe.

"Now I'm just saying that if we were going to have that conversation, and all things considered," and he wasn't sure what would fall under that category, "it would be fine, as long as things continue as they have been, but you just remember, just don't ever let it get far from your mind."

Tim shifted from foot to foot, as Coach pulled his glasses off, and the gaze, the one he knew well, the one he knew from so many Friday Nights, directed to the opposing coach, man to man, and he felt something shift inside of him.

"You just remember that Julie is the light in her mother's eye, her fierce and ferocious, beautiful mother, and I think everything will be just fine," Tim could barely nod, "And I'll except to see you at dinner Wednesday night," his attention was back on the field, the glasses slid silently back in place, "I think I'll be making ribs, it's a special occasion after all."

Again he nodded, taking the out he strode off on rather wobbly knees, for the showers, he wasn't sure what the Coach had meant at the end, what with the _special_ comment and all, but he really was just trying to absorb the fact that he had just gotten what he guessed was permission, real actual permission to date Julie, "Damn," he slumped against the concrete wall outside the locker room, the cool blast of air conditioning seeping out through the door, beckoned, but he couldn't move, had to put it together.

Shit, he was going to dinner Wednesday night, fuck, tomorrow night.

How the hell was he going to survive that?

His eyes closed, the heat of the afternoon sucking out the last of the energy and adrenaline in him, her face came to mind. The freckles he had tried to count on a stolen afternoon, making her giggle and him loosing his count, slipped in behind closed eyes.

Smiling, grinning madly really, he pushed up off the wall.

Ah, hell, he had survived worse evenings, had persevered through more awkward meals.

Now if he could just figure out how he was going to break it to her that he had talked to the Coach.

She would be mad, there would probably be yelling, after all she was a Taylor woman and fierce and ferocious ran in her blood. He would not come out of that encounter unscathed.

He banged his head back against the rough concrete, the pain a sharp contrast to the smile on his face.

So worth it, so very, very worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the long time between updates. I've been caught up in some of my other stories including my other Tulie fic, but that's no excuse, not really. Anyway I hate to say it but I feel like 'Interlude' is finally wrapping up. I'm feeling one more chapter. Tim has come a long way since he first went for that late night drive and while I'm proud of him, I'm going to miss stumbling around my first Tulie fic. So please enjoy and review this chapter.

* * *

Julie was pacing again, moving back and forth across the limited space of the Taylor living room with determined movements. Mrs. Coach had informed them earlier that he would not be graduating on time.

The rest of his classmates would be moving on. To college or jobs or their folk's basements; but not him, no he was destined for another year of Dillon.

He had taken the news with casual disregard. It wasn't unexpected, but for Julie's influence the past semester would have been a wash. For her he had dragged her out of the house and into his truck.

For her he had struggled to find the words to let her know that it was OK.

He had never had someone so concerned for him, for his future, and he hadn't been sure how to handle her pain. Julie in pain had been enough to send his thoughts on fire.

As it was he could barely piece together an explanation; that being held back another year would not be the end of the world, as she seemed to think it would be.

Another year with Coach and the Panthers, an opportunity to have a season he would remember in its entirety, a season he could do right; no sir there wasn't a damn thing wrong with that.

Julie thought he was hiding it, _his pain_, and she wanted to make it right. She was wearing a hole in the carpet trying to do just that, leaving him sitting on the sofa to bemusedly watch her plot and plan.

Why wouldn't he want another year with what he had; another 365 days to put off the separation they would face when he would be heading off to college?

And there was no doubt in his mind that he would be off to school, wearing colors that were not blue and gold. That alone showed him that he had come so very far still stumbling into her life. Julie had given him hope; hope that he would succeed at whatever he chose to do.

"Jules," he caught her hand and tugged her closer, her head whipped around so fast her hair swung over her shoulder. With a strong tug she stumbled into his waiting arms, gasping as she went.

He chuckled against her hair, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her comfortably onto his lap.

Talking to her like this, when they were all wrapped up, and every breath he took drew in the sweet smell of hair, was always the easiest.

He should have done this straight away, but then he didn't have the words ready then, and then were ready now.

They fell easily from his lips, her tension eased as her understanding grew. When the words were all out there and she was completely relaxed in his arms, she turned to look at him, her eyes bright with tears and comprehension and something he had no name for.

"Tim," it was that breathless way only she knew how to say his name, which did him in every time. Without regard to where they were or who might walk in, he kissed her; long and deep.

Their foreheads met, he felt the air change as her tears slipped down her cheeks, and his jaw clenched tight. in his jumbled thoughts there was an inkling; some little spark of knowledge of what exactly he had seen in her eyes.

He had fallen in love with the goddamn girl sitting on his lap.

"Fuck," he couldn't help it. The moment was too big, the idea was out there and he couldn't get it back. He was quite possibly in love with Julie Taylor and she might be in love with him right back.

"Damn," she was laughing now, silently shaking in his arms at his outbursts of profanity. He knew her well enough now to know without seeing that her face would be a fierce red from her blushing at his words, his actions, and he smiled.

How he loved making her blush for all sorts of reasons.

No, he wouldn't mind at all another year of this, of them, and he had ways other than with words to show her just that.


	11. Chapter 11

Awww it's so almost over. I thought this was it but I think there is one more chapter in me for this baby. Please enjoy and let me know how Tim's emotions sat with you.

* * *

'Freedom' that was the word he kept hearing over and over; free from school, free from tests and books and hallways and rules; freedom.

Funny, a year ago he might have been thinking the same thing.

"You ready?" Julie had snuck up behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist, his fingers hitching on the button he had been manipulating.

"Almost," the ceremony had been a long and hot procedure; the t-shirt he had worn under his gown, a stupid word, robe, had soaked through with sweat and Mrs. Coach had insisted he run home for a shower and change before the 'big dinner'.

A celebration dinner, for him, the Taylors had insisted and Jules had gotten a kick out of him blushing and stammering as the plans had run over him. Coach had been thrilled when the letter had come through from Texas A Mrs. Coach had bragged about his low C average. Together they had united on the 'big dinner' and following part at their house.

It was strange to think that they were going through all the trouble and effort, for him.

Julie, who had tagged along for the shower, although she had balked at his invite to join him, had been decidedly calmer on both topics. There was no lack of excitement on her part, no, it was that shadow he caught on her face when somebody would congratulate him; a look he had seen often and had yet to pin down.

He had ideas, opinions, and as she pressed her face between his shoulder blades, he felt her sigh roll through him and felt fairly confident he knew what was bothering her.

Abandoning his shirt he turned and wrapped his arms around her.

Julie Taylor had changed him. Her faith in him had given him the power to change his own world. At the first of his words, explaining as much she squirmed in his arms, trying to break free, but he was stronger; and she would hear him. Lifting her he walked them both out of his room, too many temptations there, and out into the hall until they bumped into the wall.

Burying his hand in her hair, amazed every time he did that it was as soft as silk as it had been on that very first night it had blown in his face; he tilted her head back until she had to see him.

Why would he want freedom from the life he had when for once it was better than it had ever been? She looked stunned at the question only to toss back a thought of her own. A thought that shocked him, that she might consider he wouldn't want her anymore once he was out of Dillon and had what 'better pickings'. And that was what she feared; that he had his freedom now and new goals and maybe even a dream or two, and really when had he ever had those, and maybe he wouldn't want her anymore.

"Silly girl," she glared at him, he laughed, she fought him, he held firm.

"I'm not letting go," his free hand traced the lines of her face, she was so beautiful, had no idea really just how she affected him, but she would in time; sooner probably than later.

Her tears fell and his calloused fingers soaked them up.

"I'm never letting go," honesty, it felt good, got easier every time he indulged, and as he struggled to explain, to _tell_ her the how's and why's, words like 'trust' and 'faith' foreign to him, but she heard him; enough that her comprehension eased the tension from her body.

At some moment in his life, there must have been a moment of purity, an incident that granted him one shot at happiness and regardless of all the fuck-ups since then, his moment had manifested, in her, in this instant, and he was not dumb enough to pass it by, "I love you Jules."

Saying it, meaning it, hadn't been as hard or as scary as he had imagined it, and he had done just that over and over. He had pictured the moment, had tried to form the words, alone and in the dark, and there had only been silence.

Reality had been, for once, much kinder.

"I love you," yes, saying it even a second time had not filled him with terror as he would have imagined.

There was awe and shock and then a bright burst of happiness all in the breath of a heartbeat and all written on her face, "I didn't think-I had hoped-Oh my God," she swallowed, caught her breath and a touch of composure and he smiled. So she had hoped for it, huh, she wanted his love; good, she had it.

Her lips pressed to his, her squeal, yes squeal of joy gave him chills and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers burying into his hair. She had a thing about doing that, a thing he didn't discourage in the slightest.

"I love you too," each word brought a kiss to whatever part of his skin she could reach in her excitement, and he lifted her, hearing it back was so much better than he had considered, and she laughed when her feet left the floor.

"Say it again," he bit her neck, knowing that every glance tonight at the little red spot would remind him, as if her needed a reminder, of what she had said.

"I love you Tim," she loved him; him, Tim fucking Riggins.

Freedom was hard, you made your own rules, had to pass your own tests and he knew freedom, had had it for too long. What was coming for them wasn't going to be easy, the future could be a bitch like that; he knew too much about a little of everything to think otherwise.

But there was love and hope and honesty and all these words he had never had before, had only found because of her and he liked it; liked that his vocabulary had expanded so much.

Tim Riggins was stubborn and selfish and he knew how to play dirty and if something was heading down the line that was going to fuck with the girl in his arms than they had better watch out, because 33 had been handed the world and he wasn't about to hand it back.


	12. fin

Wow it's really over this time. I cannot believe it, I have loved writing this story and I hope those of you who have taken time to read and review have as well, so please let me know what you thought of the piece. It's sad letting go of this Tim but I am not letting go of him for long since I have tow other WIP's in the Tulie fandom. I own nothing and mean no harm and please review.

~Sara

* * *

"How the hell did we end up here?"

Tim glanced towards his oldest friend, shrugging he extended the beer and Jason took it with thanks.

"You dating the Coach's daughter and me with one on the way," Street with a kid was still a surreal thought, but then so was a college scholarship.

"There is no way in the world you can screw this up," he looked at J and saw the heavy light in his eyes and he knew he was right, "I mean you really can't screw this up."

If it had been anyone else he might have, would have, taken offense; but this was Street, Jason Street who knew him better than anyone else and who while being obnoxious was still totally right.

J's laughter caught him mid drink and was unexpected enough that he nearly choked on the swallow.

"It doesn't matter though," now J was just being confusing and pointing over to Julie who was holding Gracie Belle and talking to Tyra across the street.

Mrs. Coach had arranged this end of summer block party, and while it was hotter than a Tijuana jail cell, and he knew first hand what that felt like, it was worth it to see Jules in barely legal pieces of cloth doubling as shorts and a tank top.

"You love her," the words didn't register.

"Fuck me," he frowned at J who just sounded weird when he cussed, "You really do love her."

He wasn't sure why J found it so amusing but before he could figure it out to either deny or defend Julie bounced over, her arms free of the littlest Taylor, and filled his hands with tan, scented skin.

Julie and Street struck up conversation; it was still strange to him that two people had become friends because of him, for him.

"I keep telling him it's not going to be a big deal," both heads turned his way looking for confirmation. He had no clue what they were talking about, it didn't matter. The sun was hotter than hell he had his best friend and the girl he loved.

Ignoring Julie's scream, he hefted her up and slung her over one shoulder.

Street laughed, "She looks like she could use a swim," whatever they had been talking about, and he was pretty sure it was yet another conversation about the impending fall and change of address, it was forgotten now.

"Don't you dare Tim I swear to GOD!" her fists pounded on his back, but he ignored them, would have smacked her ass if there were a dozen heads looking their way, no doubt buzzing about that Riggins boy who had his trashy hands on the Coach's sweet daughter.

The Coach's daughter was not that sweet, he smirked at no one in particular, and his hands had been in much naughtier places than her covered ass.

"You my friend are in for a hell of a time," Street laughed.

He still wasn't used to the good news thing, but this was one prediction he would make come true, turning on his heel he strode across the street to the closest Taylor neighbor with a big enough swimming pool.

People parted as he came through and he smirked at that, he was Tim Riggins, he was 33 and he had his girl.

Her screams had grown frantic when she saw the hint of blue between his legs, not caring who saw he indulged once in one firm slap to her luscious ass, before dropping them both into the pool.

She came up sputtering water a second after he did mouth spewing piss and vinegar, soaking wet, "You are unbelievable. I cannot believe you did that," he loved it when she lost her words because of him. He lost them frequently because of her and payback was nice.

Before she could lunge for the edge of the pool he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled them back under, their lips met beneath the surface and her resistance faded in that instant, pulling him in closer when she had been struggling to pull away.

When they surfaced they were both out of breath, but her grin was infectious and he knew he was smiling like a fool, but he was a fool for her and no one else.

"Well, when you sure seem ready to take the big plunge," her tone was light, not believing her own words; a shame really because he was so very ready for just such a thing and it looked liked he would have to convince her of it.

With a strong kick he moved them across the water pressing her against the tiled wall, "Tim."

He loved it when she lost her words for him, but nothing compared to hearing his name said just like that.

"Tim Riggins what have you done to my daughter," they both looked up at the voice above them; Mrs. Coach was staring down at them, hands on her hips and continued to admonish them both for their behavior.

He would have to convince her later, he grinned pushing up out of the water, reaching down to pull her out of the pool; he could live with that.

* * *

Did the lack of Tim having any dialogue work for you? It started out by accident and then it just felt right, let me know what you think.


End file.
